Hope

I have long been a lover of nature. The contrast of the seasons has been one of the many reasons I never took or sought out roles or career moves that had me in sunnier more consistent climes. That and what I like to call the depth of our soul, the history and quality of our architecture the richness and comforting nature of our communities and traditions. Since turning down a job in Sydney in my 20s, I knew I was a home girl. I like being near my family and my many and varied friends, I like Blighty and I love the four seasons. None more than Spring.

Spring is always a relief. I’m begging it to arrive as soon as the first snowdrop is up in January.

Snowdrops pushing up through winter’s hard baron soil

That white dab of light in a dark long winter. I then look forward to the daffodils and the hyacinths in everyone’s gardens and the glorious lines of hopeful yellow bursts that flank the sides of my road. Daffodils I helped plant nearly 15 years ago, that keep on coming. Making us all smile because we know the light nights and longer days are on their way.

I get my love of daffs from my Mum. Wordsworth was onto something too.
A beautiful iris, its delicate petals being jostled in the wind

Spring is my favourite month. I think it always has been. My depression is definitely worse in winter. Daylight and the feel of sun gently warming my skin certainly warms my soul and makes me believe that more is possible and I can cope. I have to make less effort to hide my inner loneliness and black dread. I’m always a smiler, but spring makes my heart sing. I smile inside and out.

A few days ago I went on a short walk around the block. I was having a rare moment of being physically alone, alone in good way. Alone in suburban nature. I was listening to the bees in the blossom and the birds, who’s song seems happier now that they don’t have to fight with aircraft and traffic. I always try and tune in to my surroundings. Whilst often being focused on my end goals or ‘to do-list’ I always try and notice the details of the periphery. I am also blessed (I think it’s a blessing) with an incredible memory. If I experience things in a multi-sensory way, I remember them. So I play attention to my senses.

A lone hyacinth in my front garden

On this walk I notice the smells of spring too. That fresh smell that comes from new shoots and blooms previously hidden deep in a dusty looking bulb. Of starting afresh.

I wish.

In my garden my husband and I (makes me sound like the Queen!, but I’m trying to avoid naming people) have planted a few little beauties which pop up every year, sometimes taking us by surprise. The peony is another favourite, it’s petals so tightly and neatly snuggled up to each other that they create a near perfect sphere, before bursting to life.

Surrounded by all this new growth and life I wonder if the cancer cells I harbour are shooting new blooms and tendrils or dying back like an internal winter.

I briefly contemplate how many more springs I will enjoy, but for now I want to drink in this one. To meditate in its rich, bright and hopeful palette. To forget about cancer and to leave the screaming children at home while I wander quietly around the block.

Sadly, the welcomed early warm weather will dry up all the beauty of spring petals, stealing their scent and wrecking their form. Some years I feel I wait so long for spring it’s a shame to rush through it.

Much as I love the warmness of the sun on my skin I want to linger in spring and all its gifts a little longer. ..

The annual wonder of the magnolia tree. It’s robust yet fragile blooms. A tree I’d love to have in my garden, but haven’t had much luck with.

5th April 2020

Time for some cheer

I know the weekend’s post was a bit hard going. I lived it and reading it back was tough enough for me. So time for some cheer.

That’s the thing about cancer treatment; one minute you are crawling on your bathroom floor, the next you are whizzing around London having a fine time. Then you’re shattered again. ‘This too will pass’ has become regular self talk for me and many other cancer thrivers.

Today I made the trip for 10 vials of blood to be taken and tested to make sure all my organs are behaving themselves and have managed to process the 10 of the 14 days drugs I poisoned myself and hopefully the cancer with earlier this month.

Good news is, my liver and kidney function and my red, white and platelet cell factories seem in fighting spirit. And so too am I.

I’m still adjusting to the peaks and troughs of this new medication, but hopefully with a reduced dose and three lots of anti sickness drugs by my side I will navigate cycle 2 (and half term (!)) with a bit more grace.

I was lucky enough to get the prime viewing seat for my bloods today. The rain stayed away too.

Today involved, being weighed (1 min incl. lace up shoes) taking some bloods (10 mins), seeing an oncologist (which was less than 5 mins as I’ve been in and out with bad reactions so they are up to speed with my side effects), making an appointment for 3 weeks time (1 min), filing a prescription (2 mins) collecting two lots of drugs from two different places (5 mins) total to collect and walk between two places. So 24 active patient minutes. I left my house at 8.30 and got back to my town in time for a work meeting at 5pm. Granted the travel time is a big chunk of that, but I still spent over 5.5hrs waiting at various places or travelling between parts of the same building.

There has got to be some efficiencies to make there surely. I even transported my own bloods and handed them to a nurse to hand deliver to the lab, because the porter system can add another hour at least. No wonder we have a productivity problem in this country – all those people not working, but waiting, or waiting with someone who’s waiting.

They even have a poster to help manage your expectation

I’m an impatient patient. You may have picked that up! I hate inefficiency. If I can see a quicker, better, different path I like to take it or find it.

That said, Knowing that today would be a waiting day, I planned some jobs and some cheer. In between sorting my annual accounts, finishing a poem, drafting this and picking up some presents I managed a bit of cheer. I stumbled upon a cafe behind the hospital and decamped for some non-vending lunch. I then met Jimmy of ‘London Hearts’ fame for a coffee and to pick up my commission of our very own ‘Cosmic Heart’.

As I had expected he was a lovely bloke and very humble about his talents. I started to shake his hand, but that felt odd, so I gave him a big hug, which felt right. We chatted a while about his work, my blog, legacy, reaching out and connecting to your loved ones and inspiring communities of people to do the same. I am so glad I stumbled upon those hearts, pressed send on what seemed like a slightly unusual email and met the heart behind some of the world’s street art.

Despite the waiting, today was a good day. I feel good.

Sometimes that’s enough.

Scanning my Future (Poem 11)

Tummy gurgling, brain racing.
Thoughts scrambled, running ahead,
Looking back with fondness and ahead with dread,
Waiting for scan results. Day packed to avoid pacing.

Going into myself, shutting down the outside, 
Anonymous evening classes to fill my brain with bright ideas and kick these dark thoughts out,
Making room for the new where the unthinkable currently resides, 
Looking around this packed tube at glum faces. Grab life, smile, I silently shout.

I emerge into the sunshine, renewed  and teetering on the edge of now,
Get back to today. Breathe. Be.
Reconnect to your senses, look outward, as much as yet another hospital department will allow, 
Thoughts out on this paper, time again to be smiley me. 

13th August 2019